“And how old are you?”
“Seventy-three.” Her mother’s chin tilted upwards a notch. “Seventy-four in March.”
“Memory loss or confusion is not actually a normal part of ageing,” the doctor said kindly. “So if you are experiencing those symptoms, it is important to get tested.”
“Which is why we’re here.” A steely note entered Tina’s voice. “To determine if I am in fact, losing my mind.”
The doctor looked as if he wanted to argue with her choice of phrasing, but then he smiled and inclined his head. “Part of the testing process is to rule out other options. Why don’t we go through your health history?”
Olivia tried to relax as he took Tina through her medical history, and then finally turned away from his computer. “Shall we get started, then?”
Tina gave a rather regal nod, and Olivia had to keep from clenching her fists and gritting her teeth as the doctor went through a test similar to the one she’d found online, asking her mum to recall today’s date, which she could, and then draw a clock face on the pad of paper he pushed towards her.
Olivia watched, holding her breath, as her mother carefully drew a wavering circle, and then hesitated before filling in the numbers.
“Sorry, sorry,” she muttered as she scratched out the nine, which had been in the place of the six, and put it where it belonged. The doctor watched impassively and Olivia had to bite her lips to keep from saying something pointless and unhelpful.
Anyone could mix up a six and a nine. It was normal. She’d done it on occasion. Then the doctor asked Tina to recall the address he’d told her at the beginning of the test, and Olivia watched with a sinking heart as her mother’s brow crinkled.
“Yes, of course I remember that…it was…let me see, it was…” She paused, pursing her lips, her eyes scrunched up with the effort.
It was fifty-one Woodford Close, Mum, Olivia wanted to shout. You said it after him, twice! Come on!
“Something to do with…” Her mother trailed off and then shook her head, her expression turning resolute and rather stony. “I’m sorry. I can’t remember.”
“That’s all right.” The doctor spoke easily, as if this wasn’t a big deal, but Olivia knew it was. It had to be. “It was fifty-one Woodford Close. Does that ring a bell?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Tina nodded. “Fifty-one Woodford Close. Now I remember.” Except Olivia didn’t think she did.
“Well.” The doctor sat back, his hands folded. “As you probably realise, you had a few issues with some parts of the test.”
“Yes.” Tina pressed her lips together.
“I think the best thing to do is leave it for a few weeks, and then take you through another test, perhaps after Christmas, to see how you’re getting on. In the meantime I’ll schedule you for a blood test so we can rule out any other options.” He gestured to her arm. “The nurse will change the dressing on your arm before you go.”
They’d had their ten minutes of time, and they were now kindly but firmly ushered out of the GP’s office. Olivia felt strangely numb, and Tina looked composed.
“That wasn’t as terrible as I thought,” she said as they waited to see the nurse. “Although I can’t believe I forgot how to draw a clock.”
“Anyone can get sixes and nines confused, Mum—”
Tina gave her a sharp look. “Don’t make excuses for me, Olivia. We’re past that now, I think.”
“Still, he wants to do more tests…” Olivia faltered at her mother’s steely look, then rallied again. “I just don’t want to throw in the towel at the first opportunity, Mum. Let’s wait and see how the next few tests go.”
Tina nodded in seeming agreement, but Olivia felt as if her mother was just humouring her. She’d already made up her mind about what was going on.
An hour later, having dropped her mother off back at home, Olivia returned to Tea on the Lea feeling mixed-up inside, a tangle of hope and fear. Harriet looked up from the till as she came in.
“We’ve had a run on cupcakes! Apparently word is getting around.”
“Have you?” Olivia was pleasantly surprised. It was only one o’clock in the afternoon; the cupcakes usually sold later in the day.
“Yes, a mum came in to buy six for a dinner party she’s having tonight. And someone else bought two…”
“Are there any left?” Olivia couldn’t keep a note of anxiety from her voice, and of course Harriet picked up on it.
“Oh, yes. There’s still two left. I wouldn’t have sold the last one, don’t you worry. I know you need to save one for your cupcake man.”
Olivia didn’t want to get talking about that again. “He has a name, remember.”
“Yes, I remember. About that, Olivia…”
She held up a hand to forestall any of Harriet’s bumbled apologies or worse, warnings. “Let’s not talk about it, Harriet—”
“No, I don’t want to. I just want to tell you to ignore me. I shouldn’t have said anything, and I don’t know anything, not really—”
Despite her obviously good intentions, Harriet was still making it worse. “I know,” Olivia cut her off, hoping she would finally drop it. “It’s fine. I’m just going to let Simon speak for himself.”
Harriet’s eyes rounded. “So you’re going to ask him?”
Ask him what? “No, I’m going to let the conversation unfold naturally,” Olivia said, holding on to her patience with effort. “And act like we never had this conversation.”
Harriet finally looked as if she were getting the message and she nodded, abashed. “Right. Sorry. How’s your mum, anyway? Is the burn healing all right?”
The burn was just about the least of Olivia’s worries, but she still didn’t feel like sharing what was going on with Harriet, even though she’d already told some of it to Simon last night. “Yes, it’s healing nicely,” she answered. “Thanks for minding the shop.”
Harriet left a few minutes later, and Olivia
